and the currents they send across great continents. See instead, you and me
arranged on the same vast plate — two irregular green peas rolling around the nucleus of a split pod.
Even if we don’t meet here and now — snagged by an intervening fork, set off course by rivulets of gravy, separated by marbled slabs of meat, or consumed by a gravity-defying, black- holed gob — somewhere on parallel, fine-clothed tables, we’ll savor the joy of big-banged, trajectory-altering collisions.
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